


running in circles

by fixon



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Useless Descriptions Of Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixon/pseuds/fixon
Summary: It takes years for Seonghwa to realize just how deep his feelings for Hongjoong lie, and he figures that he is too late to act upon them.  What he doesn't know is that Hongjoong has been waiting equally as long.





	running in circles

4

The rain splatters against the concrete with a loud _splash_ noise. Together, they create some sort of symphony, like an orchestra where all the instruments perform the exact same note for a stretched out time. After a while, the sound of it becomes so familiar that without it, the world seems completely hollow. The water droplets themselves lack individuality as they fall down the sky with lazy movements, but they don’t seem all that bothered about standing out though, more comfortable in having a small part in a bigger picture. 

The water droplets that don’t reach the ground fall on Seonghwa’s skin - or more accurately his outstretched hand. His body was safe from the heavy rain from the inside of his apartment, but he had taken it upon himself to at least let his hand soak up the cold water. 

Seonghwa never minds the rain, matter of fact, he quite enjoys the low hum of the small water drops as they hit whatever surface they manage to crash upon. It feels safe, like coming home after a prolonged time. Perhaps that was a very fitting description since their city is known for being cursed by the rain gods because, for some reason, the rain never seemed to want to stop falling. 

“You’re up early today,” a voice says in between the trickling sound of the water thumping against all the windows of the apartment. 

Seonghwa feels his lips twitch in a small smile before he even turns around to greet the owner of the familiar voice. As expectedly, his lips manage to stretch out in a full-blown grin the second his eyes find _his._ “It’s nine am, Hongjoong. You are the only person that thinks nine is early.” 

Hongjoong shoots him a silly smile equally as wide as his, perhaps even brighter whilst he places a paper bag on top of their kitchen island. Seonghwa’s eyes flicker to it before they return back to Hongjoong’s as a way to ask him what he has brought back home with him. The message seems to have come across clear because Hongjoong pulls out two cups of coffee and two (what Seonghwa assumes) breakfast wraps. 

On cue, a rich coffee smell starts to slowly fill up their room, one inch at a time. A thankful sigh leaves Seonghwa’s lips as he makes his way to the kitchen island, where his first meal of the day is currently waiting for him. “One cream?” 

“Seonghwa, we’ve known each other for five years, I think I’m more than aware of how you like your coffee,” Hongjoong deadpans as he brings one of the coffee cups closer to his mouth. He hesitates for a second, in fear of burning his tongue or the roof of his mouth on the cruel but delicious liquid, but slowly sips on it when his impatience takes over. 

He is completely right. Seonghwa has never been worried about the fact that Hongjoong would ever let him down, even in most simple things such as his coffee order. Yet some strange part of him almost _wishes_ that Hongjoong would fuck up just once. Even just one time only just to confirm to him that the concept of Hongjoong was indeed too good to be true. 

“Do you want just the cheese or the one with ham and cheese?” Hongjoong asks while holding out the two cylinder-shaped aluminum objects in his hands, which Seonghwa knows contains the wraps in question inside of them. 

“Just the cheese,” Seonghwa answers and reaches out to the one with _cheese_ written all over it with a black sharpie. The glint in Hongjoong’s eyes tells him that he had low key hoped for Seonghwa to pick that exact one. 

They eat in silence after that with nothing but the rain pouring outside of their apartment creating life around them. By the time they enter a new hour, the rain finally becomes less distraught and shifts instead to a more melodic sound of individual notes here and there. This is the sort of rain he loves the most, where the rain is still present, but it allows the silence to have it’s moments unselfishly as well. 

Hongjoong enjoys the rain too. It was even the main subject of one of the first conversations they ever shared. Back when his relationship with Hongjoong was mainly the guy that shared the same laundry schedule as him. That day had been one of the less pleasant days in their city, where the rain was so powerful that nothing could defeat its purpose. It washed away every lingering thing that stood in its way — from trees and old water bottles to pent up emotions. And even if they were stuck in the oddly smelling laundry room for over three hours, Hongjoong and Seonghwa still spent most of it sharing their admiration for the insignificant water droplets. 

“What are you going to do today?” Seonghwa asks curiously as he places the clean dishes from last night back in their respective cabins. He finished his breakfast long before Hongjoong that liked to take his time to enjoy each meal, so he decided to put the time somewhere productive — like cleaning out the dishwasher. 

“Nothing until dinner,” Hongjoong shrugs and bites down on his mostly finished wrap. Happiness starts forming inside of Seonghwa’s body at the thought of spending a lazy day with his best friend after so long, but it snaps in half after his next sentence. “I think I might go on a date.” 

“Think?” Seonghwa hides behind the door of the cabin that contains their mugs and cups. Behind the door, he doesn’t have to conceal the grimace that falls on his facial features. He manages to straighten up his posture, return the two black coffee mugs in his hands to their place, and turns around to face Hongjoong with a faux smile. 

When he faces Hongjoong, all that there’s left of his wrap is a small aluminum ball. Hongjoong loves to play with those until they get hard and completely shine. Like a disco ball. His hands continue on squeezing it absently as he speaks. “Yes, think. He said that he would get back to me around lunchtime.” 

If this was three years ago, Seonghwa would’ve made an entire scene by asking for the man’s name, age, address, occupation — any information that could completely describe who he was as a person. In this current timeline though? Seonghwa just sits and nods, perhaps even throws a low ' _good luck'_ if can he find it in him to do so. 

1

The first time Seonghwa notices _something_ is when Hongjoong knocks on his apartment door in the middle of the night. The digital alarm clock on his bedside table reflects two thirty am with bright red neon colors, which he catches briefly as he rushes to the door in pure anxiousness. You can only assume the worst when someone is desperate enough to come all the way to your door that late at night. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa yawns and tries to rub the lingering sleep of off his eyes. He succeeds when he takes in Hongjoong’s uncomfortable stance, followed by his down to the brim drenched clothes, that leaves him more stone-cold awake than anything. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah uh-” Hongjoong rubs his neck in apparent embarrassment. His eyes fly around every spot surrounding Seonghwa. He finds interest in the apartment's wooden door, the mailbox hanging on the wall beside it, the curtains covering Seonghwa’s windows inside of the apartment — every significant thing but him. “Can I stay the night?” 

Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate to step aside in order to make room for Hongjoong’s shivering body. He closes the door behind him the second he steps inside the comfort and the warmth of the condo. 

There’s an endless row of questions swimming inside his brain, but if he has learned anything in the past two years about Hongjoong, it’s that he cannot function well under stress — and clearly this was a situation that falls under the lines of stress. So, he bites his tongue, pulls out a clean t-shirt and sweatpants for Hongjoong to change into and gives him as much space as he needs. 

“Why aren’t you asking?” Hongjoong finally makes a noise when the digital clock passes three-fifteen. He is sitting by the edge of Seonghwa’s couch, a hand-me-down he had received from the former owner of the apartment. It was nice and didn’t contain any stains, so why not? 

“There was no green light for me to ask you,” Seonghwa slowly answers. He is sitting on the other end of the couch, too busy focusing on Hongjoong’s slumped up posture and the sound of the angry storm coming from the open window in his room. He should really go up to close it, shouldn’t he? 

Hongjoong pulls the decorative blanket (that Seonghwa’s cousin had gifted to him on his house-warming party) closer to his body. His tousled, slightly wet black hair melts in with the fuzzy strands of the blanket rather profoundly, which leaves a small smile on Seonghwa’s lips, despite the tense situation. 

He doesn’t answer right away. Seonghwa wants to assume that he was starting to focus on the sound of the rain as well, perhaps to calm down just enough to open up with his worries, but Hongjoong has always been a book that is difficult to comprehend so he can’t be completely sure.

“You are still not asking,” Hongjoong chuckles dryly. He leans back against the soft brown cushions of the couch with a sigh. A sigh that’s too loud for the current time. Funnily enough, the pouring rain doesn’t feel like it breaks the atmosphere of the night, but this soft, barely audible sound does. 

Seonghwa grants him his wish like he usually does. “What happened?” 

Hongjoong remains with his eyes closed, but there’s a thin smile on his lips. The one hand that is above the blanket, probably somewhere above his thigh, starts drumming unrhythmically. It takes Seonghwa a while to realize that he is following along to the drum of the water droplets that are falling down heavy on his window sill. If only he had just closed the window before he went to sleep. Now, there’s undoubtedly a large pool of water inside his house, waiting to be cleaned up. 

“I got stood up,” Hongjoong heaves out. A low chuckle fills the air, but a sound resembling a choked up sob interrupts it suddenly. “Again. The third time in a row.” 

Seonghwa is a rational man, so he ignores the punch to the gut feeling inside his chest and asks; “Did they tell you why?” 

The most frustrating factor about his alarm clock is that the engineers have built in a small function inside of it which makes the clock let out a small sound each time the hour transition. It’s not loud enough to make a sleeping man wake up, but it’s prominently there when you are up and awake. 

Seonghwa bites the inside of his cheek because there are only two more hours before he has to get ready for work, yet here he was, desperately needing to hold the body of his distressed friend. And for some reason, the idea of losing sleep for the sake of Hongjoong doesn’t sit too badly inside that reasonable brain of his — in fact, he would’ve done it again in a heartbeat. 

“He texted me four hours after what would’ve been the scheduled date saying it had ‘ _completely slipped his mind’_. Said that I was a super nice guy but I wasn’t exactly what he was seeking,” Hongjoong grimaces out. His hand falls flat on top of his blanket-covered thigh. “We all know that that’s complete bullshit. They never tell me what I’m lacking, or what I need to do in order to be what they are _seeking_. I’m just tired of feeling like a loser in front of these corporate douchebags and low lives band artists all the damn time.”

“Hongjoong, I’m really sorry,” Seonghwa tries to hold himself back, but his hand gets a life of its own as it falls down softly on top of Hongjoong’s. He flinches below him for a heartbeat but allows the touch to soothe him regardless. “I won’t tell you empty words in order to cheer you up because this is the reality. What I do know, however, is that you are such a special guy, truly one of a kind. I hope you know that anyone who doesn’t realize that is a fucking jerk and I’ll kick their ass myself. Don’t forget — the rain falls on the ground, so get yourself up to the sky where it doesn’t reach you.” 

It’s then he experiences the first _badunk._ The description sounds like something of a children’s book, but that’s exactly how Hongjoong usually makes him feel — lacking words and somewhat youthful. It occurs when Hongjoong gives him a long, quiet gaze with those doe eyes of his. That look isn’t foreign to Seonghwa, it’s not by far but perhaps it lies in the hour of the day, or the exhaustion running through his veins, or maybe even the demanding storm but this time it just _feels_ different. 

The _badunk_ only intensifies when Hongjoong crosses the small distance between them by laying his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder. His thin arms wrap around Seonghwa’s own as a way to steady himself. There are hints of short breaths tickling at the side of his neck, but Seonghwa is too busy focusing on his heart than to scratch the itching area. 

They fall asleep there, somewhere around four fifteen am, with the rain acting as their lullaby. 

5

“Can we please not eat another salad, I wanna feel unhealthy,” Hongjoong nags as Seonghwa runs his hands through his recipe book. The book was not an actual book, but more like a grey notebook that Hongjoong had brought home (stolen) from the office a day after Seonghwa had announced that he wanted to start creating his own food recipes. Perhaps even open a blog, if he deems his food worthy enough. 

The notebook was filled more than halfway through with scribbles, food stains and actual ingredients lists scattered all over the pages. The pad itself was so typical with boring old stripes and its naked cover, but Seonghwa cherishes it more than anything else he possesses. Maybe because it's a special gift from Hongjoong, or maybe because it's a huge step towards his dream — who knows? 

“Aren’t you scheduled for dinner? You should probably eat a light lunch,” the words that leave his mouth touch the lines of sounding bitter, which he cringes at internally for a moment. 

Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t catch the attitude of his words. He just flashes a large beam in Seonghwa’s direction and pats his stomach multiple times softly. “I would give up a Gordon Ramsey meal easily if it meant having a taste of your Pad Thai.”

Seonghwa makes a scene by snorting out loud, before throwing his head back in laughter. He amends Hongjoong for being so supportive, yet so dishonest straight to his face. In addition, Hongjoong has only tried his Pad Thai at the New Year’s Eve party Yuta had hosted, where he was completely shit faced. His opinion was clearly fogged up and in conclusion; ruled out. 

But, being complimented by Hongjoong did something to him. That same something he has been pondering about for the last two (was it three?) years of his life. The something he consciously refuses to put a label to, despite him being more than well aware of what the indications of his feelings might be. He was a stupid fool, not a dense fool. 

“Alright fine, you big baby. I’ll make you a Panzanella, is that okay for your taste buds?” Seonghwa mischievously smirks behind his cookbook. 

“Sounds Italian. I don’t know what it is but I already love it,” Hongjoong giggles in happiness and jumps out of his seat on the kitchen island bar stool. He walks around it in order to reach Seonghwa that was currently leaning against one of the counters. “You’re the best, man,” he smiles and lands a fist bump against Seonghwa’s waiting fist. 

(“You are a dick head. You let me believe Panzanella was something else, _this is a damn salad_.” 

“I didn’t let you believe anything, you just assumed on your own.”) 

2 

Seonghwa loves birthdays. He loves the feeling of showering his friends in a tad bit of extra admiration. Birthdays become an excuse to kiss (try to, at least) and hug them as much as he likes since it’s justified. Everybody should be treated nicely on their birthday, it was an unwritten law in society. There are unselfish reasons for his adoration for the holiday as well, such as seeing his friends be as happy as they can be, with smiles even brighter and uncontainable happiness oozing out of their bodies. 

On Hongjoong’s twentieth birthday, the skies are kind enough to stop crying. They even allow the sun to peek through the clouds like a blush on a lover’s cheek. How could they not, if anyone deserves that special treatment it should be Kim Hongjoong. 

“Get dressed,'' Hongjoong bursts through the door to his room. Seonghwa still isn't sure how he made it into the apartment, but he's too afraid to even question it. ''It's my birthday and I want to party.'' 

''Uh, hello?'' Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows in surprise. ''Sure,'' he exhales when he realizes that Hongjoong would never back down from his demand. 

So, he finds himself squashed between endless of bodies in a fancy club downtown. His monthly budget would slap him in the head if it had a chance since this is way beyond what he is capable of spending, but it was Hongjoong's only wish so he couldn't really find it in himself to decline. Furthermore, it wasn't like he was having a horrible time, so he deems it as a win-win situation. 

He's heard about this club multiple times before from friends and coworkers. It's the new hotspot where young, rich singles mingle in hopes of finding someone close to their level in society, but at the same time flaunt their latest clothing in front of the paparazzi that lurk outside the entrances. Not many celebrities come here, but there have been enough instances for the media to want to stand around there night in and night out. Pouring rain or not. 

While the outside of it is chaotic, the inside of it is not. There are booths decorating every corner of the vicinity with chairs that cost more than Seonghwa's monthly pay. Every piece of decoration and furniture is a coal-black color, a contrast to the wine red brickwork. However, the lights are too dim so even if there would be other colors, chances are, the human eye would find a difficulty in picking them up. In the middle of the club lies a dance floor as well that's packed enough, but not too tightly to make the whole ordeal uncomfortable. After all, everybody here was sophisticated enough to not behave like pure assholes. 

''Stop disappearing into your own head,'' Hongjoong speaks out, the sound coming out weakly against the loud music blasting from the speakers placed above them. ''Let loose.'' 

Seonghwa nods, mostly to himself since Hongjoong can't see him. He closes off every intruding thought in his brain and allows himself to lose himself to the slow, sensual song the DJ has put on. When Hongjoong senses that Seonghwa has started to sway, he makes it a grand point by turning around and facing him properly. ''There you go,'' he smirks and wraps his arms around his neck.

This isn't the first time they've danced like this, but this is the first time it has happened after Seonghwa.. realized. Hongjoong isn't a person that shies away from skinship, and neither is Seonghwa, but being this close to each other, far away from everything, while Seonghwa harbors not so platonic feelings towards the other makes him almost want to pull himself away. To run away into the rain and never look back because this isn't supposed to happen. He isn't supposed to see Hongjoong in this light, isn't supposed to look at Hongjoong and feel an urge to pull him closer to his chest, to feel his heartbeat press against his, to feel every single exhale dance against his lips. He is supposed to be his friend. And this? This isn't what friends feel like. 

''You are staring,'' Hongjoong points out and it crashes onto Seonghwa hard because his eyes seem to have locked themselves on Hongjoong's lipgloss covered lips without his knowledge. 

''I'm sorry,'' he hurridly apologizes for some stupid reason and shoots his eyes up to meet Hongjoong's. He makes an attempt to extract his body from his tight grip but loses the battle pathetically. 

''Why are you apologizing?'' Hongjoong crocks an eyebrow at him. His breath hits Seonghwa square in the face and it reeks heavy of the vodka and lime mixture they had minutes earlier. It should be off-putting, but unbeknown to Seonghwa, he finds himself wanting to taste the intense flavor of it on his tongue. ''I didn't say I didn't like it.''

Seonghwa lets out a small _oh_ before averting his eyes away from Hongjoong's intense gaze. ''We are friends,'' he finds his voice saying and he feels so incredibly fucking stupid. 

The statement seems to have a sobering effect on Hongjoong that drops his arms down from their place around Seonghwa's sweat-covered neck. He takes a step back into the crowd and shoots him an unreadable look that burns deep in the darkest pits inside his chest. ''What?''

''We are friends, Hongjoong. Right?'' Coward. You goddamn fucking coward. 

''I just thought-'' Hongjoong exhales, licks his lips and slumps his shoulders. Someone next to his body whines that they should move if they aren't planning on dancing. ''Of course, we are. Friends.''

6

''So, has he texted you yet?'' 

Hongjoong finishes off chewing on the last spoonful of food on his now empty plate, before shrugging casually. ''Not really.'' 

''Oh. Well,'' Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak, but he has long ago run out of things to say so he simply stands up and starts collecting their plates. He washes them without even glancing back at Hongjoong pitiful direction. For a second, he feels rather thankful that washing dishes is a chore that exists, especially now that he needs an escape. 

''I know you find me pathetic,'' Hongjoong starts off suddenly, voice sounding incredibly small. ''Don't lie and tell me you don't.'' 

Seonghwa almost drops the dish soap covered plate in the sink but manages to collect himself just in time to catch it. With somewhat trembling hands, he places it on on top of the other dishes and turns around to face his best friend. The sight he gets greeted with is a sight he hates but knows too well. It's the vision where Hongjoong tries to seem nonchalant about the occurring situation, but the bitten sweater edges and his wandering eyes give him away. 

''I don't find you pathetic,'' Seonghwa answers sincerely because it's the actual truth. He's never once in his life found him pathetic, he just can't understand him. Can't fantom why Hongjoong continues on chasing and chasing after these men that couldn't possibly begin to understand just how amazing he really is. ''I just wish you'd stop.''

Seonghwa's intentions are pure, but the sentence still looks as if it had offended Hongjoong to no end. His wandering eyes come to a halt on Seonghwa's, and they contain nothing but a blasting fire inside them. ''Stop? Stop with what?'' he forcefully asks. 

There aren't enough words in his vocabulary that seem to be able to describe exactly what it is that he wants to explain, which makes irritation boil up inside him. He takes a step closer to the kitchen island and drops his hands on the marble cover of it. ''Going after men that couldn't give a single fuck about you. You are worthy of more than that.'' 

For some odd reason, Hongjoong bursts out in laughter that touches every part of the apartment. And usually, it's a sound Seonghwa loves to drown in, but not right now, not when it sounds as icy as hail on winter midnight. ''Oh, really? Going after men that couldn't give a single fuck about me?'' he repeats, coldly. Seonghwa nods to confirm his statement yet again, which makes Hongjoong chuckle once more. He stands up from his place on the barstool and rounds the only thing that is standing between them, the kitchen island. ''So, why don't you tell me what I'm worth, Park Seonghwa?'' 

3

''Hongjoong is kinda cute, don't you think?'' Yeosang, Seonghwa's childhood friend, announces one day over the cubicles dividing their two desks. It's only an hour left to lunch, and while this should be the time where they attempt to finish up any residual work in order to enjoy lunch with a clear head, Yeosang had taken it upon himself to strike useless conversations to pass the time instead. 

''Hongjoong?'' Seonghwa repeats. There's a lump in his throat that feels heavy with every breath, but he dismisses it in order to seem collected. When Yeosang hums and repeats his sentence, Seonghwa rubs his neck nervously. ''I haven't really noticed.'' 

Yeosang rolls his desk chair over to Seonghwa's, making them collide slightly. ''You can't tell me you haven't noticed. You stare at him all the time. Hell, you two moved together last week. I can't imagine what it's like at home.'' 

''He's my best friend, of course I'm gonna look at him, Yeosang,'' Seonghwa plays off. ''Maybe if you were a better friend this wouldn't be such a big deal for you.'' 

There's chatter in the background that indicates that the rest of the office has started to feel restless, as well. He can easily spot Jaehyun and Johnny chatting away from across office without caring that their boss is just one door away. Don't get him wrong, Seonghwa isn't the most morally inclined worker that only focuses on work all the time, but he'd rather sort through the yearly fucking budget than dealing with the conversation Yeosang had so kindly brought up. 

''I'm a good friend which is why I'm telling you that you two need to sort your shit out,'' Yeosang dismisses and rolls back to his own cubicle. The sound of his fingers hitting the keyboard follow suit moments later which makes relief form inside Seonghwa's chest, but it grows quiet again. ''I get that you cherish your friendship with him, but it's just gonna hurt it more if you continuously shove your feelings aside.''

7

Every single atom in the air can be heard in the midst of the deathly silence in the apartment. Seonghwa doesn't even have to focus to hear Hongjoong's harsh breathing after his outburst. His ranging, icy-cold eyes feel so contrasting to the warm furniture and atmosphere Hongjoong had brought with him when he moved in here. 

''Cat got your tongue?'' Hongjoong continues on pushing. A sole finger lands right in the middle of Seonghwa's chest that pushes him further back inside the kitchen somewhat. ''Tell me what you think I'm worth, and maybe I'll just ' _stop running after men that don't give a single fuck about me'_.'' 

This could be the moment that makes or breaks everything and Seonghwa doesn't know which scares him the most. He takes in Hongjoong's determined posture and wishes he had the same confidence. He wishes he could just spill out every feeling, every thought and every emotion that has rushed through his veins for the past years of his life. There's nothing more he wants than to tell him how much he hates the words 'just friend' and how much he hates seeing all these people not treat Hongjoong the way he could treat him. 

But, the words can't leave his lips no matter how hard he tries, because he is a coward that would rather only be friends with Hongjoong if that ensured that he could be a part of his life. Friends don't risk losing each other, but lovers do. 

''Coward,'' Hongjoong spits out and turns around to leave but Seonghwa grabs a hold of him before he does. 

''I,'' he starts off, brokenly. He drops Hongjoong's wrist and runs two frustrated hands through his hair harshly. ''Fuck, Hongjoong.'' 

''Please, Seonghwa,'' Hongjoong's eyes are round as they look into his with expectation. ''Just tell me,'' he pleads with a wavering voice. 

And Seonghwa throws all caution out the rain covered window and swallows. ''You are worthy of someone that treats you right. Someone that wakes up in the morning and feels excited because he is going to spend it with you. Someone that always wants to make sure that you are safe and that you have a smile on your lips. You deserve that.'' 

A lone tear streams down Hongjoong's cheek. ''Do you?'' 

It's only two words, but they make Seonghwa take a step back in bewilderment. His body crashes into the fridge behind him, resulting in several magnets from their trips around the country to drop down on the floor. He feels his chest closing in and his mind screaming at him to say the right fucking thing, but his lips can't move. Hongjoong and he have a friendship so deep that they could simply look into each other's eyes to know what the other is thinking and oh how Seonghwa wishes that was the case right now because at this moment right here, he can't for the life of him figure out what Hongjoong is thinking. 

''I do,'' Seonghwa begins and Hongjoong lets out a small exhale. ''As your friend, it's my-'' 

Seonghwa doesn't see it, but he hears and feels the collision of Hongjoong's fist against his chest. It's not a sturdy jab, but more made out of frustration. Hongjoong's eyes burn into his as he speaks his next words. ''Stop saying that _fucking_ word. Stop hiding behind it.'' 

''Fine,'' Seonghwa says, and it comes out harsher than he thought. There's a flash of lighting that erupts inside his chest, and shortly after comes the rumbling of it as he speaks because fuck hiding any longer. He is too exhausted. ''Do you want me to tell you how much I hate seeing you with others? How much it fucking hurts inside my chest to watch you crumble inside yourself after every failed relationship?'' Seonghwa hits himself squarely in the chest, way harsher than Hongjoong's earlier action. ''Even if I hate all of them for hurting you, do you know how much I wish I was one of them because at least I could've been able to call you mine? Even just for once?'' 

There's a silent second that passes after Seonghwa's words that can only resemble the silence of a graveyard. But, there's no chance to dwell on it because Hongjoong's hands that were just hitting him find their way to his neck firmly in order to pull him down in an ever-harsher kiss. It's funny to think about how arguably, the most romantic action in the world can make everything seem so pure, yet this was nowhere near pure.

This is desperate lips trying to convert every hurtful emotion and yearning feeling from words into actions. This is two best friends that have danced around each other for god knows how long only because of fear. But, for the first time in his life, Seonghwa stops thinking about every tiny little irrelevant thing in order to convey just how badly he has wanted this.

His hands land on Hongjoong's waist on an instance, seeking every ounce of warmth he can get in this cold kitchen. His own lips respond right way with a small sigh that emits maybe out of relief or out of finally feeling like he is able to breathe. When Hongjoong realizes that he is kissing back, his desperation only tenfolds. The hands that were once around Seonghwa's neck travel to his cheeks delicately, but firmly, and they stay there, trembling. 

''God, Seonghwa,'' Hongjoong whispers against his lips. The sound of Seonghwa's name on Hongjoong's tongue sounds more dainty than the word 'God' for some reason. 

''I'm sorry,'' Seonghwa exhales. He keeps his eyes closed, just in case this is all a dream that would completely disappear the second he snaps out of it. 

Hongjoong caresses his cheeks with his thumbs slightly, as to calm him down. ''Why are you sorry?'' 

''For being afraid,'' Seonghwa licks his lips. ''For waiting for so long. For letting you hurt even though you didn't have to.'' 

''It's okay,'' Hongjoong chuckles, and it resembles an exhale more. ''I have you now. That's enough.'' 

Instead of confirming, Seonghwa simply brings his face down and connects their lips in a breath-stealing kiss again. This time around, there's no time for hesitancy or fear, he simply brings Hongjoong's body as close as he can to his and smashes their lips together with all of his might. He kisses him hard and steady, not even allowing air to sneak in between them. But it's okay because he is breathing Hongjoong in, anyway. 

At some point, they moved from the fridge to the kitchen island. After Hongjoong let's out a whine that sounds like a kittens purr, Seonghwa simply wraps his hands around his thighs and lifts his body so that it can rest on the island in a more comfortable manner. On instance, Hongjoong wraps his legs around his torso in order to pull him in further, leaving them connected chest to chest. 

Now that Seonghwa doesn't have to hold him up, he takes it upon himself to finally run his hands through Hongjoong's deep red hair. Just like he thought, the strands hit between his fingers softly, but still substantially. That seems like something that pleases Hongjoong because he gaps straight into Seonghwa's mouth, which he swallows down right away. ''Do that again,'' Hongjoong breaks the kiss to say, before resuming right where they were. And well, Seonghwa can't deny him of his wish, so he firms up his grip and scratches against Hongjoong's scalp, earning him a loud moan or two, he loses count. 

But reality isn't as easy as kissing and making up because suddenly, the familiar iPhone ringtone erupts, breaking them apart from the spell they were prior in. Hongjoong leans back slightly with a small smirk on his lips as he reaches down to his pocket, the location where the phone singing lies. The smirk on his lips drops as he reads the contact name, and he shoots Seonghwa a worried look, before throwing the phone on the island besides him. 

''Who was it?'' Seonghwa asks, already knowing the answer. 

''Nobody important anymore,'' Hongjoong answers quickly, with a serious tone. His eyes look straight into his and Seonghwa can't help but feel like this is a silent promise. So, all he does is give Hongjoong a small nod. ''What's important is what's right here. I know that you are scared, but so am I. I'm freaking terrified,'' he suddenly continues, making the atmosphere return back to the sincerity it was in just minutes ago. ''But, we are friends before everything. You know me and I know you. We have each other and we'll work through everything. I promise you.'' 

The rain outside the apartment abruptly stops, filling the entire world with taciturnity. Usually, Seonghwa feels cramped up when that does happen, but not right now. The words that Hongjoong doesn't speak, his eyes make sure to deliver, making the room feel more alive than ever. And Seonghwa? Well, Seonghwa makes sure to finally listen to all the words that have slipped through his attention while he was too busy hiding inside himself.

**Author's Note:**

> anyone up for a part two (perhaps nsfw)? feel free to let me know.. <3 
> 
> (also this is my first post on this account, please love me.)


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